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THE STORY OF 
THE FIRST FLAG 




ARTHUR CLIFFORD KIMBER. 

First Lieutenant, United States Air Service. Born at Bayville, New York, March 29, 
1896. Killed in action at Bantheville, France, September 26, 1918. 



THE STORY OF 

THE FIRST FLAG 

oAn Q^ccount of the •^^ission of 
ARTHUR CLIFFORD KIMBER 

WHO, IN THE MONTH OF MAY, I ply, CARRIED TO FRANCE THE FIRST 
AMERICAN FLAG AUTHORIZED BY THE UNITED STATES GOVERNMENT 

COMPILED FROM HIS LETTERS AND OTHER DOCUMENTS BY 

CLARA E. KIMBER 

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY WILLIAM T. MANNING, 

LETTERS FROM NEWTON D. BAKER, DAVID STARR JORDAN, RAY LYMAN 

WILBUR, AND HENRY D. SLEEPER 




San Francisco 

Published under the Auspices of 

THE FRIENDS OF FRANCE 

1920 






COPYRIGHT, MARCH, I920 
BY CLARA E. KIMBER 



PRINTED BY THE H. S. CROCKER CO., INC. 
SAN FRANCISCO 



JUL -6 1920 



•C!.A571613 



DEDICATED 
TO 

THE CLASS OF 1918 

(STANFORD UNIVERSITY) 

THE CLASSMATES 

OF 

ARTHUR CLIFFORD KIMBER 

WHO SHARED WITH HIM 

THE JOY AND VISION 

OF COLLEGE DAYS 

AND THE FRIENDS WHO HEARD WITH HIM 

THE CRY OF AGONY 

AND 

THE CALL OF DUTY 

AND 

WHO PLACED 

ALL THAT LIFE HOLDS DEAR 

UPON 

THE ALTAR OF SERVICE 

FOR 

COUNTRY AND HUMANITY 



FOREWORD 

XF it were not that he did what he wanted to do, and ac- 
complished that which was dearest to his heart, nothing 
could reconcile me to the death of my son, who was to 
me all that a mother s heart could desire. 

When I stood upon the pier in New York that bright day in 
mid-May, and watched the quiet figure standing aloof on the 
deck of the " St. Louis," the flag, sheathed in its long black case, 
in his hand, I wondered even then what would be my feelings 
the day he returned. T'hat day, his face now growing dimmer 
and more indistinct as the ship became a mere speck in the 
distance, would come closer and closer, and his eager eyes fixed 
on me would be clearly discernible. 

I thought he would come back. He took the flag and went 
away. It is a sad and weary world, but I am not alone. Other 
mothers have the same sorrow, and our homes have been spared 
the tragedies of many French and Belgian families. 

To other bereaved families I can only say, let us look forward 
to going to them, since they will not come back to us. Many of 
Clifford' s friends are with hi?n now, and I know they are 
happy. This flag which he carried to France is now reposing 
in the Memorial Church of Stanford University, and this book 
is to remind me that the flag, like the principle back of Clifford's 
life as a whole, is imperishable, and represents the soul of 
liberty and humanity. 

[vn] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

Some day his book of letters will be published. We are told 
by returning aviators who lived at the front with Clifford^ and 
fought beside him in the air^ that during the last few weeks of 
his life he never spoke of himself^ and^ although cheerful^ was 
continually silent. Many things have proved to me that he 
knew he was destined to go to a new Commanding Officer^ and a 
larger field of action^ and he grimly went forward to meet his 
destiny. If he did not talk to his comrades^ he poured out his 
heart in his letters to his mother and brothers^ and we feel that 
we journeyed with him to the end. 

C. E. K. 
Palo Alto, California 
October 22, 1919 



[ vin ] 



INTRODUCTION 

By William X. Manning 

{Rector of 'Trinity Church, New York) 

THE story in this little volume is one which will stir 
the heart of any American, but for us who belong 
to Trinity Parish it has a special message. 

Arthur Clifford Kimber, born in Bayville, Long Island, 
March 29, 1896, was one of our own boys, a child of the 
parish, and of the Church in the fullest sense. He lived and 
grew up among us. His father was for thirty-seven years in 
charge of St. Augustine's, one of our missionary chapels, 
where he did heroic work among the people of the lower East 
Side. 

To us who knew Clifford well, and who knew also the 
mother who imparted her own spirit to the sons left early in 
her sole care, it seemed quite natural that this strong, quiet 
noble-hearted boy should come from his new home in Cali- 
fornia, chosen by his comrades of Stanford University to be 
the bearer of the first American flag officially carried to the 
front. We were proud of the honor shown him, and we were 
proud, as he was also, for the flag to rest for a few hours in his 
home church of Old Trinity. It stood before the altar during 
the services on Sunday, it was solemnly blessed to its sacred 
purpose, and it was viewed with unconcealed emotion by 

[ix] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

large numbers of people who saw in it the symbol of America's 
espousal at last of the great cause to which she was called, 
and to which this young bearer of her standard was to give 
his life. There was complete accord between the symbol and 
the spirit of him who bore it. It was souls like that of Clifford 
Kimber which made victory in this war a certainty, and it is 
souls like his which carry the world forward and upward. We 
shall always be glad that he rested with us that day at Trinity 
Church. He gave his life willingly for God and country, a 
true soldier of the cross standing not for "peace at any price" 
but for righteousness at any cost. 

We give thanks for his high example, and that of the others 
like him whom we keep in loving remembrance. May God 
bless and reward him and them in the other life where they 
now live and continue their faithful service. 



[x] 



CLIFFORD 

By Ellen Coit Elliott 

He was a star? No, never so remote. 
He was a rushing brook, drawn purling on 
To dash his eager heart in flowers of foam 
Against the boulders? More like that, yet not 
So wayward. Starry hopes and silvery loves 
Beckoned him ever, and his boyish brow 
Was diademed with joy. 

Then came the call. 
With all the legions of young souls he sprang 
To lift the colors, shake them o'er a world 
Where Pity died, and Freedom lay undone. 
But no fine gesture satisfied his dream. 
Steadfast he held his purpose till he won 
To challenge Death each morn, a-wing, and sleep 
Each night as he for whom at dawn th' supreme 
Adventure lies in wait. 

The early sun 
Glinted upon the flying squadron drawn 
About their captain. "Here's the dangerous thing 
To carry bombs, and drop just there and there — 
The boche's guns will find you. Volunteers!" 

[xi] 



INTRODUCTION 



The eager brook leapt once again athwart 

The rock! The star gleamed sparkling from our clay! 

He laughed. Great wings whirled up and bore him with 

His deadly freight into the eye of Heaven. 

Companion planes swept by. A roaring flash, 

And a bright spirit — unwounded and untamed — 

Leaped through the fiery portal to its home. 



[x.i] 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Foreword vii 

Introduction ix 

Clifford {Poem) xi 

Part I. The Dedication of the Flags ^ i 

" II. Arthur Kimber's Mission 8 

" III. The Presentation of the Flag i6 

" IV. Daily Life of the Section — The Croix de Guerre 30 

" V. A French Peasant's Hut — Service in the Air . 40 

" VI. Extract from Report . . . 58 

" VII. Some Letters 60 

To Ernest H. Leach {Poem) 64 



[ XIII ] 






M^ 



^ /f^fuy 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 



THE DEDICATION OF THE FLAGS' 

ON Tuesday, April 24, 1917, the Friends of France, in 
co-operation with the recently organized American 
League of California, wrote, at the Civic Auditorium in San 
Francisco, a significant chapter in the spiritual history of the 
city. 

Between the hours of 4 and 6 on the afternoon of the day 
mentioned, over twelve thousand persons participated in the 
"Leave-Taking" tendered by the two societies to forty-two 
students from the University of California and twenty-one 
from Stanford University who had volunteered for service in 
the American Ambulance in France. The young men were 
presented with brassards, bearing the insignia of the society, 
by the Friends of France, and four American flags — the gift 
of the American League of California, to be taken by the 
volunteers under service and with the authority of the War 
Department to the battle fronts of Europe — were solemnly 
and ceremoniously dedicated. 

'Reprinted from an article by Porter Garnett, secretary of the Friends of France, in 
the Argonaut of May 5, 1917. 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

The event was significant and impressive. The march from 
the Ferry of twenty-five hundred Berkeley students (of 
whom fifteen hundred were uniformed cadets, ordered out 
for the occasion), one thousand from Stanford, and detach- 
ments from the United States Army and Navy; the ringing 
words of the speakers at the mass-meeting; the cheers that 
greeted them; the singing of national anthems by thousands 
of voices — these bore indisputable evidence that public 
feeling had been aroused. 

Whether consciously or unconsciously, the audience felt 
that behind the ceremonies lay a great idea — the idea of 
Liberty! The flags, the strains of "America," of "The Mar- 
seillaise," and of "The Star-Spangled Banner" were but 
symbols of that idea. And the sixty-three young men on the 
platform — young Americans about to leave their homes and 
their country on a mission of mercy, to serve Humanity by 
succoring those who shed their blood for Humanity — they, 
too, were symbols of Liberty, and they were about to take up 
their service — in France! 

Service for Humanity — in France! France, wherein the 
world has seen the ideal of democracy nourished and made 
strong; France, wherein the world has seen civilization attain 
to perfect flowering; France, upholding before the world 
honor and justice and giving to the world beauty; France, 
with her courage and endurance, too sublime to be affronted 
by praise; France, with her vision, her adaptability, her 
efficiency, vitalized by the strength, the dignity, and the 
graces of her splendid intellectual heritage! When, therefore, 
in that hour of sober exaltation we were stirred by a sense of 
the high purposes that have been voiced in unison by the 
civilized peoples of the world, we were thrilled not only with 




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THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

pride in America — who, breaking at last her long and patient 
silence, has so nobly spoken — but with pride in beholding our 
nation standing by the side of France, valiant, resolute, in- 
vincible in her glorious wrath! And so, when M. Neltner, the 
French consul-general, was introduced, the great audience 
rose with one accord and shouted its acclaim of the repre- 
sentative of France. This tribute, while it honored the consul- 
general, was yet uttered from the hearts of the people as a 
homage to France itself, a homage cried across land and sea 
to the anguished but proud mother of the bravest men and 
women on earth. 

The speakers were Dr. David P. Barrows, dean of the 
faculties of the University of California, presiding; James 
Rolph, Jr., mayor of the City and County of San Francisco; 
x^rthur Arlett, president of the State Board of Harbor Com- 
missioners, representing His Excellency the Governor of 
California; Julien Neltner, consul-general of France; Mrs. 
Herbert Hoover; Brigadier General C. x'\. Woodruff, U. S. A.; 
Dr. Ray Lyman Wilbur, president of Stanford University, 
chairman of the American League of California; John 
Herbert Brown, of the University of California Volunteers; 
LeRoy Farnham Krusi, of the University of California Vol- 
unteers; W. B. Bourn, president of the Friends of France; 
Bruce Porter, vice-president of the Friends of France; Pere 
Thiery, of the Church of Notre Dame des Victoires; Charles 
Mills Gayley, Professor of the English Language and 
Literature at the University of California; Rev. Walter 
H. Cambridge, rector of the Church of St. Matthew, San 
Mateo; and Brigadier General W. L. Sibert, U. S. A. 

The words of Mr. W. B. Bourn, president of the Friends 
of France, were as follows: 

[4] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

"The greater battle has been fought. The victory is won. 
The soul of America is triumphant. 

"On the 2d of April, through the immortal words of our 
President, the nation spoke, and the heart of every true 
American found peace. 

"You carry to France the flag of our country — for our 
country — for Humanity. 

"Our flag, the flags of heroic France, of martyred Belgium, 
of dauntless Britain can not be furled until liberty, honor, 
and justice are made the law of mankind, for to that cause is 
dedicated 'everything that we are, everything that we have.' 
We have outsoared the thought of self. Victory is God's!" 

Striking still a different note, which had its own peculiar 
response, Mr. Bruce Porter, vice-president and founder of 
the Friends of France, said: 

"We who, through this terrible night, have kept our eyes 
fixed upon noble France, as the very day star of the world's 
hopes, have lived to see the dawn breaking in the east and 
Russia free of her oppressors. Now, only as we, the children 
of America, each in his deepest heart, realize the glory of our 
mother in her great unselfish dedication, will she be the 
noblest, the most unselfish, the most glorious of all — 
America — the splendid daylight flooding the New World of 
'Humanity and the Humanities'!" 

When the brassards had been given to the volunteers, Pere 
Thiery, of the French Church, delivered the following bene- 
diction: 

"O God, whose ways are inscrutable but always wise and 
just: Thou, who knowest how to bring good out of evil, we 

[5] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

thank Thee for giving inspiration to these young men to 
spend themselves whole and entire in the cause of suffering 
humanity. Deign, O Lord, we beseech Thee, to bless this 
generosity. Make these soldiers of charity, gentle, patient, 
forbearing amid the bloody scenes of the battle-field; fill their 
hearts with compassion for hearts that are in anguish and 
desolation: drive far from their hearts any notions of hatred. 
May their example, yea, their very presence, add new energy 
to those who are battling for the true, the right, the just: may 
they return with deep gratitude to Thee, O God, who hast 
made them realize more and more, from what they have 
actually witnessed, that it is well worth while for men to 
sacrifice everything, even their lives, in the cause of liberty, 
truth and justice: and that only under Thy guidance, in con- 
formity with these principles, can the progress and happiness 
of the human race be accomplished: chastened, broadened, 
more ennobled by their experience, may they return safe to 
their own beloved parents, and be ever the glory and pride of 
this great republic. Amen." 

Then, to the music of fife and drum, the banners of the 
Allies were carried up the aisles by Boy Scouts; the martyr 
nations and the champion nations side by side — Belgium and 
Serbia beside France and England, Italy, Japan, Portugal. 

Professor Charles Mills Gayley presented the American 
flags to the volunteers. The following dedication of the flags 
was then pronounced by Rev. Walter Cambridge: 

"O Almighty God, who has made of one blood all nations 
of men, and ordained that in Thy service all shall be free, we 
give Thee thanks for the freedom which our fathers wrought 
out in righteousness and preserved to us with their blood; the 

[6] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

freedom of which they made the flag of our country the 
symbol. Grant us now Thy favor, as we bless in Thy name 
these emblems of our liberty. Unfurled in foreign lands, may 
they witness there that our faltering and neglect are ended, 
and so mightily renew the courage of those who are our allies 
in the service of humanity. And to this end, accept us, O 
Lord, as in the presence of these colors we renew our solemn 
purpose to preserve for ourselves and for our children the 
spirit of those who founded our institutions, as we dedicate 
ourselves to the effort which is to make our flag everywhere 
respected as the symbol of power devoted to the service of 
righteousness and justice and freedom. Grant this, we pray 
Thee, in the name of Christ. Amen." 

The flags were accepted for the volunteers, with military 
honors, by Brigadier General W. L. Sibert. The ceremonies 
ended with the singing of "The Star-Spangled Banner." 



[7] 



II 



ARTHUR KIMBER S MISSION 

ALTHOUGH at the time the Dedication took place the 
United States had entered the war, it would be some 
time before there would be any American soldiers at the 
front carrying the American flag. It was decided, therefore, 
to obtain a Government authorization for the flags presented 
to the American volunteers serving or about to serve with 
the American Ambulance organization attached to the French 
Army. A request for such authorization was accordingly 
made by the American League of California, in response to 
which a letter was received from the Secretary of War, offici- 
ally designating the flags presented by the League as the 
first to be sanctioned by the Government representing the 
United States. 

APPOINTED TO TAKE THE FIRST FLAG 

Of the four flags dedicated at the Auditorium one was 
destined for the First Stanford Unit of the American Am- 
bulance Field Service, which was already in service in France, 
having left for the front in February. In order that this unit, 
being the first to serve, should have the honor of unfurling at 
the front the first officially authorized flag, the Second Stan- 

[8] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

ford Unit decided to send the flag of the First Unit in ad- 
vance, and conferred upon one of its members, Arthur 
Chiford Kimber, the honor and responsibility of carrying it 
from the United States to France. The appointment was 
accompanied by the following letter: 

Stanford University, Cal., 
April 27, 1917. 
Mr. Arthur C. Kimber, 
Palo Alto, California. 

Dear Mr. Kimber: 

In entrusting to you the care and delivery of the official 
flag to be sent to the First Stanford Unit of the American 
Ambulance Field Service, we feel certain that the mission 
will be safely executed. 

It was the wish of the Friends of France that this flag be 
publicly presented to the representatives of the First Unit 
upon your arrival in Paris. Mr. A. Piatt Andrew, founder of 
the American Ambulance Service, will no doubt be glad to 
arrange the details of the presentation for you. You are 
hereby instructed to convey to the First Unit the greetings 
and best wishes of the entire Second Unit. 

As advance guard of the Second Stanford Unit, you are 
carrying with you the hearty fellowship of those soon to 
follow, and whom you will join in Paris. 

Very sincerely yours, 
C. J. Randau, 

Corps Leader. 



[9] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

The flag, which was of silk, bore upon its staff two silver 
plates, on which were engraved the following inscriptions: 

(0 

PRESENTED BY 

THE AMERICAN LEAGUE OF CALIFORNIA 

TO THE 

FIRST FRIENDS OF FRANCE unit 

VOLUNTEERS OF STANFORD UNIVERSITY 

TO THE 
AMERICAN AMBULANCE FIELD SERVICE 
IN FRANCE 
FEBRUARY 4, I9I7, A.D. 

(2) 

THIS FLAG BLESSED BY THE BISHOP OF CALIFORNIA 

IS THE FIRST AMERICAN FLAG TO BE CARRIED IN SERVICE 

AT THE FRENCH FRONT 
WITH THE OFFICIAL SANCTION OF THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT 

FROM SAN FRANCISCO TO PARIS 

Arthur Kimber left San Francisco on April 28, going 
directly to New York, where he was to take ship. He did not 
have to wait, however, until he reached France to meet with 
adventure. While he was in New York awaiting the sailing of 
his ship, the ambulance units of the University of California 
arrived. What was more natural than that the spirit of 
college rivalry should manifest itself in an attempt on the 
part of the California boys to capture the Stanford flag 

[,o] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

during a parade? The capture was in fact effected and the 
captors all but succeeded in making good their escape in an 
automobile. But the confidence that Arthur Kimber's com- 
rades had reposed in him was not misplaced, for, after an 
exciting chase in a commandeered motor, he regained pos- 
session of the flag. His own account of the episode is con- 
tained in a letter from which the following is an extract: 

"This morning (Thursday)^I got up with a day of events 
and excitement before me. 

"Mother and I went over to New York to the Waldorf- 
Astoria, where we waited for the U. C. men to come down 
before starting the parade. They seemed exceedingly in- 
terested in me and asked many questions regarding where I 
was sta,ying and when going to sail. I did not answer direct, 
but changed the subject. I am glad now. We went to Fifty- 
ninth Street and Fifth Avenue, where the parade was to 
start. And then it happened. 

"... Suddenly as I was getting my flag ready they 
rushed on me. . . . Thirty or forty men overpowered me 
right before everybody, grabbed the flag, put it in a taxi and 
rushed it off. ... I fought my way clear and rushed for 
the taxi. It was speeding up Central Park drive with the 
Stanford flag. ... I jumped on the running-board of a 
fine car — I don't know whose. The man was dumfounded, 
but I ordered him on and scolded him because he did not go 
full speed. We picked up a policeman and he commanded the 
driver to open his throttle. 

"I guess the cop thought a murder had been committed. 
The red taxi was still in sight. We finally caught it, just after 
it left the Seventy-third Street entrance at Central Park 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

West. One U. C. man was aboard and, believe me, he was 
scared when the angry cop asked me if I wanted him arrested. 
We drove back to where the parade was to start and they 
were waiting 

"I got into my car escorted by Mr. Myles, a Yale 'i8 man. 
Two liveried chauffeurs sat in front. Some car, too! There 
were at least 150,000 people to watch the parade. Fifth 
Avenue was decorated at its best and the streets were packed 
all the way down. 

"After the parade Myles and I motored to his mother's 
Park-Avenue apartment, where we left the flag." 

The flag was next taken to the office of the American 
Ambulance Field Service in Wall Street. Meanwhile the 
second silver plate had been prepared and was affixed to the 
staflF. 

At the invitation of the Rev. Dr. William T. Manning, 
rector of Trinity Parish, the flag was then placed in the 
beautiful chancel of Old Trinity Church. Here it remained 
until the time for sailing. On Sunday, May 13th, the 
presence of the flag gave to the memorable service a solemn 
and impressive atmosphere. Hundreds of people knelt before 
the consecrated emblem, and prayed for the great cause to 
which the flag was dedicated. Some wept, others kissed 
the folds of the flag and went out. 

On Monday, May 14, 1917, the flag was carried to the 
steamship Saint Louis^ which, at four o'clock in the after- 
noon weighed anchor and steamed down the Hudson, 
bound for Liverpool. 

After reaching Liverpool, the flag was carried to London, 
where arrangements were made for it to be taken across the 

[12] 




CHANCEL OF TRINITY CHURCH, NEW YORK 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

Channel on an English troop-ship, convoyed by destroyers 
and aeroplanes. After a night ride by train Paris was reached 
the morning of May 26th. On June ist Arthur Kimber left 
Paris for Ligny en Barrois, to complete his mission and 
deliver to the First Stanford Ambulance Unit, then in 
service at the front, the first American flag to be unfurled on 
the battlefields of Europe with the official sanction of the 
United States Government after our entry into the war. 



[•4] 




THE FLAG IN FRANCE 



Ill 



THE PRESENTATION OF THE FLAG 

THE following letter from Arthur Kimber describes the 
presentation of the flag: 

June 4th, 1917 

What a relief! The flag has been presented! The presenta- 
tion took place to-day, and I am going to tell you all about it. 
Last night, after dinner. Lieutenant Boudrez, in charge of 
our ambulance unit, informed me that the presentation 
would take place Monday morning (to-day) at nine o'clock. 

I had a general idea of what I was going to say, but, not 
expecting that the presentation would come ofl^ until Wednes- 
day or Thursday, I was not ready. I didn't go to bed till 
after 11 p.m. trying to think what I was going to say. For 
three hours I sat in Alan's ambulance, and finally turned in, 
having got things in some shape. 

The General of the division to which we are attached was 
not able to be present, for he had to go to the place that the 
Crown Prince has been so anxious to capture for the last 
three years, and where we are soon to follow. Colonel Colon 
was put in charge of the ceremony. Two French regiments 
were to be present. And right now let me say that never 
before has such an honor been conferred on any American 

[16] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

force in France — not only to carry the First Official Flag, but 
to have had such a welcome from the French Army. 

We got up at 6:2o this morning, and started to get ready 
to go to Treveray, where the presentation was to take place. 
Two men left early to go to other towns for the standards of 
French regiments en repos there. They also took to the 
meeting place the French color-bearers and guards of honor. 

Lieutenant Boudrez, Mr. Fishoff (who served as French- 
English interpreter), and I, in' the staff car, left at 7:30 a.m. 
We were driven by a splendid French army chauffeur, who 
kept up a constant speed of thirty-five to forty miles an hour, 
around corners and through villages, and past all kinds of 
vehicles and obstructions. It was thrilling the way we 
skimmed by wagons, not missing them by more than an inch, 
and all at that devilish speed. The complete ambulance unit, 
crowded into five of the ambulances, followed us, but at a 
much less reckless speed. They were soon lost to view. 

Our car arrived about eight o'clock. I met Colonel Colon, 
and through Fishoff received instructions as to how I was to 
proceed. (And when I got out on the field of review, I was 
mighty glad to have received instructions.) The field of re- 
view was on the top of a high hill overlooking the valley and 
village, and with a wonderful view in all directions. As we 
approached we could see company after company of French 
soldiers maneuvering into position. They all wore the steel 
helmets and had the bayonets in place. 

First the Colonel reviewed the troops by riding up and 
down in front of them. Then he took his place just in front, 
and I marched to position with a French guard of honor, and 
the staff officers and guards took their places in our rear. 
Right in front of them were Alan Nichols, "Doc" Speers (to 

[17] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

be official color-bearer after the presentation), and Walter 
Snook. Nichols and Snook are now escorts to the colors. 
Behind them were the French flags and regimental standards, 
with their guards of honor, and behind them the band. The 
Stanford boys lined up in back of them. To either side were 
the two regiments and the two mounted officers. 

At a signal from the Colonel I started my speech. As far as 
I can remember it, it was as follows: 

"Colonel Colon, Lieutenant Boudrez, Members of the 
First Stanford Unit of the American Ambulance Field 
Service, Soldiers of the French Army, and Other Persons 
present: 

"A few days after war was declared between the United 
States and Germany, and the United States of America be- 
came one of the allies of France in this great world struggle 
which we are now witnessing, this flag was dedicated in 
California, to be carried to France as the official standard of 
the First Stanford Unit of the American Ambulance Field 
Service, and was presented to the Second Stanford Unit to 
be carried to the men already serving at the French front. 
These dedicatory services took place April 24, 1917, in San 
Francisco's new Civic Auditorium, with fifteen thousand 
persons present. It is the first American flag officially sanc- 
tioned by the United States Government to be carried in 
service at the French front. 

"The Stanford men in whom this valuable confidence was 
placed felt it to be their duty to get the flag to the men at the 
front with the least possible delay and yet with the utmost 
surety. They tried to make arrangements to send the flag on 
ahead, but were met with disappointment. Finally, rather 

[18] 




ARTHUR KIMBER DELIVERS HIS PRESENTATION SPEECH AT TREVERAY 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

than wait too long, they selected me to bear the flag to 
France, and I assure you I deeply appreciated the honor 
bestowed upon me. I believe it is altogether fitting and proper 
upon this occasion for me to read you two letters which I 
was given upon leaving Palo Alto, April 27, 1917." 

{At this pointy the letter from the Secretary of War, Mr. 
Baker, was read; also the letter from the Second Stanford Unit.) 

"My instructions were to bring the flag as quickly as I 
could, and that I have done to the best of my ability. You all 
know the history of this flag: how it was dedicated and 
blessed in California; how it led a parade in New York down 
Fifth Avenue before thousands of persons, and how it was 
saluted and cheered by that vast multitude; how an attempt 
to capture it was frustrated; how it reposed in the chancel of 
Old Trinity Church and was there seen and prayed for by 
hundreds; and how it was carried through England on its 
way to France. 

"Mr. A. Piatt Andrew was unable to make arrangements 
for public presentation in Paris, as the Friends of France had 
hoped, and he told me when I left that great city that he 
keenly regretted the fact that he would be unable to be here 
at its presentation today. 

"Fellow-countrymen, I feel greatly honored to have been 
selected to carry this flag to you, and I assure you that it is 
with a very deep feeling of pride and relief that I complete 
my mission and hand the flag over to Colonel Colon, who will 
present it. 

"My Colonel, here is the flag." 

Immediately after finishing my speech, I handed the flag 
to the Colonel, and he made a very eloquent address, and 

[20] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

presented the flag to Roland Speers, who is now the official 
flag-bearer. 

Then the band struck up the "Star-Spangled Banner," 
and ended with the chorus of the "Marseillaise." (Before, 
while the troops were marching into position, they had 
played the "Marseillaise.") One of the Stanford boys after- 
wards told me that the Stanford men were just on the verge 
of crying, and that the tears came to his eyes during the 
ceremony, speeches, etc., but that when the band struck up 
our national air right in back of them shivers went down his 
body; and other men said they felt the same. 

Just stop and think! It is the first time in the history of the 
world that French fighting troops have turned out in such 
an impressive review in war times to be present at the official 
presentation of an American flag to be carried at their own 
front. And just think that in five days the Croix de Guerre 
will be presented to the section, and pinned upon this beauti- 
ful flag, for our unit has been cited for its splendid work, and 
it has been officially announced that we have a Croix de 
Guerre coming. Hasn't Stanford a right to be proud? 

The band struck up a lively march and led the review. 
When they reached a point opposite us, they drew up and 
halted, and played, while the rest went by in front of us to 
our right. First came the French colors, those not with us, 
and their escorts. Then our lieutenant, leading the Stanford 
men. They were followed by company after company of the 
French fighting men. 

The whole presentation was great. It was a fitting climax 
to all that had preceded. And the Croix de Guerre, pinned on 
the FIRST UNITED STATES FLAG, will be the finishing 
touch. Oh, how I wish you could have been present! I can 

[22] 



^*-^//Ji 




THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

never forget it. It was much more than I had ever expected. 
By the way, the mayor of the town near which the pres- 
entation took place was there sketching the whole. He 
made an excellent drawing, and has promised to make me 
a copy. 

ADDRESS OF COLONEL COLON 

Soldats de la Quatorzieme Section de I'Ambulance 
Americaine: J'ai le tres grand honneur de remettre entre les 
mains de votre porte-drapeau et de confier a votre garde le 
drapeau destine a la S.S.V.14 de I'Ambulance Americaine. 

Ce drapeau, le premier qui est ete envoye en France par le 
Gouvernement des Etats-Unis, ne pouvait etre confie en de 
meilleures mains. 

Vous n'avez pas attendu, en effet, d'avoir au milieu de 
vous cet embleme sacre de votre grande patrie pour aider la 
France dans la grande lutte qu'elle doit soutenir avec ses 
Allies contre la barbaric teutonne pour la sauve garde de la 
civilisation, de la liberte, et des droits humains toujours 
foules aux pieds par nos cruels ennemis. 

Depuis longtemps, nous vous avons vus a I'oeuvre remplis- 
sant en toutes circonstances avec un courage et un devoue- 
ment remarkables, votre noble mission vis-a-vis de nos 
blesses et de nos malades, et nombreux sont deja vos com- 
patriotes qui ont mele leur sang a celui des Frangais dans 
cette lutte gigantesque. 

11 y a plus d'un siecle le drapeau frangais d'alors conduisit 
sur la terre americaine une poignee de heros, qui avaient sac- 
rifie d'avance leur vie, afin de vous aider dans votre lutte 
pour votre independence. 

Aujourd'hui c'est toute la grande nation americaine qui 

[ ^-4 ] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

c'est levee a la voix de son illustre President pour voler au 
secours de la France meurtrie et encore envahie. 

Comme jadis notre union fera notre force, et bientot vos 
couleurs et les notres unies a celles de nos Allies fraternelle- 
ment melees sur la champ de bataille, livreront le monde de 
la tyrannie allemande et assureront a tout jamais la victoire 
du droit, de la justice, et de la liberte. x^ux Drapeaux! 

(translation) 

Soldiers of the Fourteenth Section of the American x^m- 
bulance: I have the very great honor of placing in the hands 
of your color-bearer and of confiding to your keeping the 
flag destined for the Fourteenth Section Sanitaire of the 
American Ambulance. 

This flag, the first to be sent to France by the Government 
of the United States, could not be placed in better hands. 

You have not, in fact, expected to possess this sacred 
emblem of your great country, to aid France in the mighty 
struggle which, with her allies, she must wage against German 
barbarism, in order to safeguard civilization, liberty and the 
rights of mankind which are ever trodden under foot by our 
brutal enemies. 

We have seen you at work for a long time discharging, 
always with courage and remarkable devotion, your noble 
mission among the wounded and the sick, and already there 
are many of your countrymen who have mingled their blood 
with that of Frenchmen in this gigantic struggle. 

It is more than a century since the flag of France led a 
handful of heroes on American soil, who risked their lives in 
order to assist you in your struggle for independence. 

And now the whole great American nation has risen at the 

[26] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

call of your illustrious President to fly to the aid of France, 
stricken and still invaded. 

As in former times, our union is our strength, and soon 
your colors and ours and those of our x'\llies, mingling in 
brotherhood on the battlefield, shall free the world from 
German tyranny and assure for all time the victory of right, 
of justice, and of liberty. 



[28] 




AUX DRAPEAUX 



Tv'' 



IV 



DAILY LIFE OF THE SECTION THE CROIX DE GUERRE 

June 22, 1917 
. ... In the meantime a dead man was carried out on 
a stretcher. Both legs had been shot off, and he was a 
sorry sight. They put him in a dugout about fifty yards off, 
and sent for the coffin. During the night the Germans started 
a "tire de barrage" preHminary to an attack. It was won- 
derful. The French batteries replied and made a regular 
curtain of fire in back of us. A German incendiary shell hit a 
big pile of rockets and made the most glorious sight I have 
ever seen with fireworks. All during the night both sides sent 
up rockets, star shells, and red, white, and green lights. As 
morning broke, the hill was covered with smoke and dirt 
thrown up by the shells. The gunfire sounded like a tattoo, 
it was so fast and regular. The boys had never heard such a 
barrage fire before, yet the result gained was only a few 
trenches. If they did all that for such a little attack, what 
must the British offensive have sounded like! 

Believe me, we were mighty glad when our twenty-four 
hours were over and we got back to Mourmelon to sit down 
and eat a nice warm meal which our cook had saved for us. 
We turned in immediately. 

[30] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

.... I was rudely awakened this morning, Friday, bv a 
great commotion in camp. Motors were buzzing, and the 
Lieutenant was giving orders in a very excited way. The 
results of the German attack were just being felt, and 
wounded were pouring into the pastes in large numbers. All 
the machines except the five which had just returned from 
duty were ordered out. That meant sixteen Ford ambulances 
tearing out into the darkness. 

At dinner to-day we learned that one of the boys in Section 
28, near us, had been killed by eclat that same night. They 
were serving further up the line. That has made us all 
serious. Believe me, when I get killed (I hope I won't) it 
won't be in the trenches, or driving an ambulance, but I will 
fall to the earth like a wounded eagle. But, cheer up, there is 
little danger in aviation. The war will soon be over. I am 
with you in spirit, if not in body, and am always thinking of 
you, and when we shall be together after the war. I dream of 
it at night, and think of it by day. 

June 27th, 1917 
.... We just saw a boche bring down a French sausage 
(captive observation balloon). The boche circled around 
above, and then fired incendiary shells. In a moment the 
balloon was in flames. A black speck dropped. It was the 
observer in his parachute. It opened and he floated to safety. 
The wreckage came down, making a big trail of smoke. A 
French plane 'way above the boche started to dive to catch 
him. He missed and shot 'way below. That gave the boche 
the advantage of height, and the French aviator wiselv 
stayed away. The last we saw, the boche was beating it home. 
We just got back from Mourmelon-le-Grand, where they 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

held the funeral of Paul Osborne. It was very impressive, 
and something I will never forget. We started about 8:05 a.m. 
Many of us rode in the camion, and we were just about jarred 
to pieces. As soon as we arrived at the old aviation parc^ 
where there is an outdoor chapel, we all lined up in military 
order. Roland Speers carried the flag. Practically all the men 
in Section 28 were there, wearing steel casques. Altogether 
there must have been nearly 100 Americans present. Sections 
12, 14, 19, 27, and 28 were well represented. There were also 
a large number of French. One armed squad was there and 
acted as a guard of honor. Brancardiers and stretcher-bearers 
carried the coffin. We all lined up in front of the chapel. 

Mr. Osborne's brother, a member of the camion service, 
reached Mourmelon just a short time after his brother had a 
relapse and died. He stood out in front, and bore up bravely. 
After prayers had been read, one of the ambulances from 
Section 28 backed in, and the brancardiers lifted the coffin in. 
Then, slowly, with the hearse leading, the procession formed, 
and started to march toward the graveyard. This was right 
near the old aviation parc^ and it was necessary to cross the 
field to get to it. Slowly we marched past the sheds of Henry 
Farman, then the Ecole Nieuport, and finally the Voisin 
hangars, then out into the field to the open grave. Several 
more prayers, and the body was lowered to rest. The whole 
was very, very impressive. Few of the men spoke until it was 
over. All were deeply affected. 

Afterwards I shook hands with Osborne's brother. One of 
the men not in line had kindly taken some pictures for me 
with my camera. I told Osborne I would send some to him 
and his parents. We had our own flag to-day, and Paul Os- 
borne was buried under his own colors. 



TKE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

July 6th, 1917 

Wednesday, July 4th, 1917, just one month after the flag 
was officially presented, the General of the section pinned a 
Croix de Guerre on it, in token of the French Government's 
appreciation of the excellent services rendered by S. S. U. I4. 
Also, two of our members were honored with Croix de 
Guerre. 

The day before, Mr. Muhr, in anticipation of the event, 
had us clean up the camp and give it as neat-looking an 
appearance as possible. We all worked hard, picking up 
papers and so forth, with French bayonets, just like New 
York park attendants. 

The 3d had been terrifically hot; and, as is usual in the 
Chalons section, hot days are nearly always followed by 
violent rains, really precipitous. When we got up on the 4th, 
about 6:30, it was misty and humid, and all felt that rain 
was only a matter of minutes. 

The French seem to have a way for setting the time for 
outdoor ceremony, etc., very early and then delaying a long 
time. We got into that awfully jouncing camion and arrived 
at the grounds about 8 a.m. It is bad enough riding on the 
front seat of a camion, but inside is a fright, for it bumps and 
bumps and bumps. Of course I couldn't take any pictures 
myself, but the new office assistant got some for me. Some of 
them were snapped in the rain, yet they came out all right. 

At the word of command we all lined up in a single file and 
faced the troops who were being reviewed by the General. 
There were many officers present, and nearly all had two or 
three medals on their chest. (Great sight! I wonder how they 
all got the medals!) The four companies were the soldiers 
responsible for the capture of Tete-Ton, in the Champagne. 

[34] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

At a given signal, the color-guard, Nichols, Speers and 
Snook, went forward to the center of the hollow square, and 
after an eloquent address the General attached the Croix de 
Guerre to the flag. 

Then Peter Fishoff's name was called, and he stepped 
forward to receive his Croix de Guerre. I was very glad to see 
him get it. He has been in the service two and a half years, 
and has worked faithfully all that time. He deserves his 
Croix de Guerre all right. 

Right in the middle of the General's speech it started to 
rain. Beginning with a drizzle, it was not five minutes before 
it was a regular torrent. Everybody was drenched. The flag 
hung drooping and heavy. "Doc" said afterwards that as the 
rain increased in quantity and violence, he thought he could 
never hold the flag, the leverage was so great, and the pull 
grew greater. But of course, as is always the case, the rain 
stopped and the sun came out, just as the ceremony was 
completed. 

In the afternoon the Medicin Divisionnaire presented Mr. 
Muhr with a Croix de Guerre for his faithful service since 
the American Ambulance was started. The Lieutenant tried 
to have us imitate the French soldiers. He reviewed us, made 
us form a hollow square, and then paraded the men in 
columns of four past the flag. It was quite enjoyable to 
blunder through the ceremony after the French style. 

We had a regular Fourth of July spread. We waited an 
hour for Mr. Muhr. Operations commenced at 6:30. There 
were about ten courses, with wine and champagne. It was a 
real feast and a fitting climax to the day's festivities. Toasts 
were given to Mr. Muhr, the new man, the French officers, 
and the entire section. My! but it was great. And the whole 

[36] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

took place in a barnyard, under a shed. But just think of a 
feast like that so near the firing line. The new section had 
relieved us the night of the 3d, so all our men were present, 
apart from those who left for Saloniki. As our cook was "en 
permission" we had a special cook for the occasion. After the 
banquet, everybody shook hands with Mr. Muhr and Fish- 
ofF, and seeing that all were "lit up," congratulations and 
good wishes and jokes flew thick and fast. 

Out of the six films that Alan helped me to develop that 
night, I got thirty-two good pictures. 

Paris, December 3d, 1917 
Five of us got into Paris at eight o'clock last night, after a 
somewhat long, but interesting ride. I took advantage of my 
pass to leave camp early in the morning, to go to Tours for 
the last time, I imagine, for many months. 

Just before the train left, I got my wings from the tailor. 
The U. S. wings are silvery white, with a shield in the middle, 
and a gold "U. S." on the shield. The whole is on a black 
mounting. They also gave me a plain gold-colored eagle in 
Paris to-day. This is fastened with a pin, but the wings 
are sewed on the coat just over the heart. 

The flag is safe. Walt Malm is carrying it back to the 
United States and to Stanford. 



[38] 



V 



A FRENCH PEASANT S HUT SERVICE IN THE AIR 

April 9th, 191 8 

Last night I had a chance to get a real touch of French 
peasant life, and I am very glad I took the opportunity 
presented to me. 

At Issoudun I made a practice of taking my laundry to 

Madame , a kilometer or so from camp and past the 

growing American cemetery on the hill. To-night I went 
after it, as I expected to be ordered to the front in a day or 
so. The weather was quite snappy as I strolled up to the 
little village, and my hands were red with the cold. Madame 
with true hospitality insisted that I enter and sit by the fire 
for a few moments. I consented, not knowing of course that 
there was no fire, but that they were going to build one 
especially for my benefit. 

Like most French farmhouses, the house had its front door 
on the barnyard. The barnyard was like an enclosed court, 
for the barn and sheds and outhouses and house were all 
built under one roof and formed a hollow square with an 
opening on one side where there might have been a gate. 

I had to duck my head to keep from bumping it as I 
entered the door. This was of heavy oak, the planks fastened 

[40] 




ARTHUR KIMBER AFTER THIRTY-SIX HOURS CONTINUOUS SERVICE WITH 
THE WOUNDED AT PROSNES. 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

together by huge Iron bolts and the whole suspended on 
tremendous iron hinges. It had a great big old-fashioned lock 
that I'll wager you couldn't break with a crowbar, and there 
were chains and bolts inside to hold the door shut at night. 
The tile floor of the rooms within was lower than the ground 
level of the barnyard. 

I first stepped into the little entry hall, but only had time 
to observe that two bedrooms sprang from it before Madame 
grabbed me by the arm and shoved me through another door. 
Again I had to duck to prevent fracture of the skull, into a 
fairly large room which evidently served every purpose 
under the sun. 

La grandmere had heard her daughter speak of the fire 
and had hastily lit some brush which was on the hearth. 
Madame literally hit a wicker chair against my legs in back 
of my knees and I simply fell into it. The flames leaped up. 
My chill left me, for what with the fire and the rousing 
cheer the whole family was giving me, how could I do else 
than warm within as well as without.^ So I simply adapted 
myself to circumstances, stretched my gawky legs toward 
the hearth, and decided to stay awhile. 

Slowly I collected my thoughts and made observations. 
What a cheery place and how different from what I had 
imagined. Grandma had left the room as I sat down, so at 
the moment there were only two of us In the room, mama 
and myself. She was busy brushing up and seemingly every- 
where at once in her hustle. She was also gathering my 
laundry together and making it into a nice compact bundle. 
Her major operations were being conducted on a big table 
in back of me which practically blocked one end of the room 
— that end with the windows looking out on the barnyard; 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

but there was just room enough at the ends of this table to 
walk around and take position on the long stone window 
seat which served in place of a long row of chairs and on 
which were thrown clothes in the process of being mended, a 
basket containing a sewing outfit and threads, and a brand- 
new pair of wooden shoes. There were no window curtains, 
but outside there were heavy wooden shutters, solid and 
built just like the door. 

At the other end of this living-room was a regular old- 
fashioned French bed, high, and with a great fluffy mattress 
and soft quilts. A chair stood at the head, and was evidently 
indispensable when it came to getting into bed at night. 
This bed, like the table and window seat, was loaded with 
freshly washed clothes (x^merican) — Madame does a big 
laundry business, je pense. Over all was a huge canopy and 
curtains that made me think that Marie Antoinette or 
Catherine de' Medici must have stopped there. 

The brush on the hearth was not supposed to burn long, 
and at this moment, Grandmere ^ a stooping, bent-double old 
creature dressed in black and hobbling along, clack-clackity- 
clack-clack-clack in her wooden shoes, entered with a great 
bundle of sticks. Her hands were withered and bony, her 
face was wrinkled — she was all shriveled up and looked 
eighty-five at least. But then Frenchwomen age quickly, 
and I don't suppose she was over sixty-five or seventy. I 
was reminded of that woman in the pastello picture "Before 
the Storm" that Pap got in France long ago. 

She threw her load down with a crash that scared the cat 
which was under the hearth. The hearth was about eight 
inches above the floor and there was an opening below for 
making a draft or something, and this had been occupied by 

[44] 




ARTHUR KIMBER WHEN A MEMBER OF "lA BANDE NOIRE DE DEULLIN. 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

the cat, a fact of which I was unaware. As pussy scampered 
out under the legs of my chair I jumped and nearly lost my 
balance. 

And just then Georgette came rushing in breathless from 
the shop down the road where she had been to buy some 
chocolate. I had seen Georgette before and thought her 
nothing wonderful, but to-day she was dressed in her holiday 
clothes, for she and her cousin Claire had been a promenading 
right before dinner. She seemed very attractive and had a 
winning smile. She seemed in such a rush that I asked her, 
^* Pourquoi si vite. Georgette ytna cherie?'' — '' Claire rn attends.'' 
— '' Alors^ allez et trouvex Claire, et vene? ici ensemble, et nous 
nous parlerons une heure, n est pas, MadameV from me, and 
a delightfully rich red blush from Georgette, who rushed off 
as quickly as she had come in. 

Within five minutes she was back with Claire. We all drew 
our chairs before the now roaring blaze. As a last job before 
sitting down, la grandmere lifted the cover of the huge caul- 
dron hanging over the fire and supported by a huge chain 
from the mantel (just to see if the water was boiling, I 
suppose), and then she too sat down and we talked. 

I cannot remember what we talked of. The conversation 
was naturally light and simple because it was in French and 
I had difficulty in holding my own in that tongue. They asked 
me all sorts of questions about aeroplanes and flying and 
what it felt like. I told them some of my experiences in 
France and all about my machine. They admired my uni- 
form and Sam Browne belt and little bars, and my wings. 
They said they were greatly honored to have a lieutenant 
sit at their hearth and talk with them. They were very 
sincere in this, I could see it clearly. Oh, these peasant people 

[46] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

are so simple and frank and good-hearted and generous! 
They are only ignorant. 

Eight o'clock came, then nine o'clock. It was getting late, 
but I didn't want to leave. I was having a fine time talking 
with these people, and was thoroughly enjoying myself. 
Even in their little hovel with their simple life, they could 
be happy. Le pere etait au front. He came back every four 
months, but he was over forty-five, so was in back of the 
lines and not in the trenches. 

Finally I had to shake myself loose. I paid for my laundry, 
picked it up under my arm, shook hands with the whole 
crowd, promised to drop Georgette a card from the front 
(which promise I honestly intend to carry out if I don't 
forget it), bid them all au revoir^ bonne chance, et bonne nuit, 
and ducking my head again as I went out, to avoid a crash, 
I plunged into the cold and darkness. 

Twenty minutes along the uneven road, when a sharp 
"Halt! Who goes there .^" rang out in the still night air. "A 
lieutenant returning from the village with his laundry," I 
replied. "It is late for laundry'' (I wonder just what he was 
thinking as he said this.) It was obvious I wasn't drunk, as 
most late arrivals are. There was a slight sarcasm in his 
voice as he blurted out the word "laundry," but I had the 
huge and awkward bundle of evidence under my left arm. 

"Advance and be recognized. Lieutenant." I stepped for- 
ward a few paces. "All right, sir; pass on." And he brought 
his rifle to a "present arms" while my right hand shot up to 
my hat rim in an answering salute. 

What if I had been a private or a cadet or a German 
prisoner? The first would have gotten a good lecture punc- 
tuated by curses (for a soldier standing lone guard at night 

[47] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

always likes to let out his pent-up wicked words) and would 
then have passed with a "Good-night," or "Good luck," or 
"So long, pal." The third would have been shot. The cadet 
would have been driven to the guardhouse at the point of the 
bayonet. Lucky I was a lieutenant. 

Well, the evening is over; I am tired now and was then. I 
repeat t\\Qaurevoiry bonne chance^ et bonne nuit. And also lots 
of love to you dear Mother, John, and George. God bless 
and keep you! 

May 4th, 1918 
The new art gallery at Stanford must be fine. I would have 
liked to be at that Memorial Church service. Some of the 
boys in the Section thought that the flag would be put in 
the Museum, but I felt sure it would go in the Memorial 
Church. 

June 15th, 1918 
Just as I am on the eve of departure for the front, I see an 
article in the New York Herald^ Paris edition, that Alan has 
died of wounds. I went up to headquarters to find out about 
him, for I heard he had been shot down in the French lines, 
and they said he was severely wounded in the back, abdomen 
and leg. I can't make myself believe the paper. I'm going to 
headquarters now to see if it is true. 

Poor, brave Alan. No words of mine can do him justice. I 
mourn him, not so much because of his being, as I believe, 
my best friend, but because of what he was — the man — the 
hero. He was always there, ever ready to volunteer, never 
complaining when he got the raw end of a deal. Constantly 
cheerful and always pure, noble, good, with high ideals and 

[48] 




CAPORAL PILOTE AMERICAIN ALAN H. NICHOLS PREMIER GROUPE 

d'aviation, legion ETRANGERE. 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

Standards which he had the strength to live up to. He saw his 
duty in this war, and he hesitated not one whit. Although 
serving and fighting with the French armies, he died for our 
Cause, and for his country, the United States 

It is true. Poor old Nick, My best friend — gone. I spent 
this afternoon walking in the Bois de Boulogne to compose 
myself, selecting the quieter and less frequented part of the 
park. Monday I go to join a French escadrille, and I am to 
have a Spad machine. What more could I wish! Look out, 
Fritz! 

Alan had two boches officially, besides several unofficial. 
He had been cited twice, and proposed for the Medaille 
Militaire, but he died before it could be granted. As soon as 
his second citation arrives, with his Croix de Guerre and two 
palms, the Captain is going to give them to me to send to his 
folks by registered mail. 

Alan's loss is felt by everybody in the escadrille, from 
mechanics up. He was loved and admired by all his comrades. 
Never before have I heard so many good words for any man. 

Sept. 15, 1918 
It has always been my policy to be perfectly frank with 
you and tell you everything. If anything should happen to 
me you would be glad to know of all my experiences. This 
is war and war is in itself dangerous; everybody knows that. 
Yesterday I had the most thrilling experience in my life. 
Now I am going to tell you all about it, but don't allow your- 
selves to worry; it will do no good. We chasse pilots run many 
risks daily and they are all in the game. 

On the anniversary of my enlisting in the U. S. aviation, 
I had the biggest fight of my life — September 14, 1917. I 

[50] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

joined up in Paris. Little did I dream then what a chasse 
pilot goes through; now I know. Yesterday I found out. But 
in addition I learned something that I am very glad to know 
— I don't wilter under gun fire nor do I lose my head in even 
an unequal fight with bullets shrieking and whistling all 
around me hitting my plane, "Nick," and just missing my 
head. That is one satisfaction. 

Yesterday afternoon eight of us started on a patrol with 
the Captain leading. Our mission was to create a safe zone 
for our observation planes five kilometers ahead of our 
advancing forces, and to do this we had to fly 8-9 kilometers 
north of our most advanced lines. Because of my having had 
a little more experience than some of the boys I was placed 
on the left and to bring up the tail and cover the others. 
Rear man has the worst position in case the patrol is attacked 
for he is the first victim picked upon, and in case his patrol 
attacks he gets little glory, for it is the leading men who 
shoot at the enemy first. 

So when the nine Fokkers attacked us six, Little and I 
were the first victims. About four of the red-nosed blue- 
bodied machines jumped on me. They had height and were 
in the sun and all I could do was to wriggle. At that moment 
I looked below and saw that five or six other Fokkers had 
come up and were attacking the rest of the patrol. In a dog- 
fight like that it soon develops into each man for himself 
and the devil take the hindmost. Well I was the hindmost, 
but at the same time I didn't like the idea of being easy meat 
for the devil huns. We were about 5200 meters high and 10 
kilometers in the boche lines. 

I watched my tail like a cat and saw the enemy come on. 
One especially attracted my attention and he was only 

[51] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

about 75 meters off. He moved prettily and I moved like 
mad to get out of his sights. But he wasn't my only worry, 
for there were three or four picking on me alone. No sooner 
would I avoid one than another was firing at me. Rat-tat- 
tat-tat! What a sound! And then a streak of pale sickly 
whitish blue smoke would whish by over my head as the 
bullets flew by. I'll bet a hundred bullets came within six 
inches of my body. Nick was absolutely riddled; I didn't 
even have a chance to fire a shot. I had to look in back of me 
all the time, and with me I don't like to fire unless my beads 
are on the other man's head. There is no use firing bullets 
wildly if they are not going to hit something. This is not a 
Fourth of July celebration just for noise, sparks and smoke; 
and yet through it all I never thought so quickly or so clearly 
in my life. My head was just as cool as could be. It was a 
game to outwit the huns and get away. 

With motor racing full speed I swung into a fast steep 
right-hand spiral dive; going down almost vertically and 
yet turning enough to keep the other fellow's sights off me. 
Really, to tell the truth, I've never seen such a pretty sight 
as those tracers and incendiary bullets flying past leaving 
their trail of smoke; but that smoke smells awful. The rat- 
tat-tat-tat is bad, but the whistle and crack as the bullets 
hit home in your machine, ripping the fabric and breaking 
the woodwork, is awful. 

For 1 200 meters those streaks and bullets kept flying past 
me; then the boche seemed to pull out of their following 
dives, evidently convinced that they had sent a Spad down 
out of control. I let Nick dive vertically for another 800 
meters just for good luck and then gently pulled him out 
toward our lines. Looking up and back I saw the huns 

[5^] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

circling around like hawks over their prey. In the air was 
considerable wreckage; evidently a plane had exploded. As I 
crossed the lines the boche kept archying me with their 
black archies, but I couldn't help laughing — their shots 
went so wild. My altitude then was about 3000 meters. That 
2200 meters was the fastest I've ever dropped. 

Giving Nick the once over I decided it was best to make 
for our aerodrome and land. My landing was terrible and 
bouncy, because among other things the boche had shot off 
my left tire. As I taxied up to the hangars a great crowd of 
pilots and mechanics gathered round my plane and of course 
they had to have the story and congratulate me upon getting 
away. Nick and I certainly were lucky; there's no question 
about that. 

My machine was so badly shot up that I'll probably have 
to have a new one. The motor was untouched, so I am going 
to ask the Captain if I can't have that in my new plane. 
There were nearly 70 holes in my machine, mostly in the 
fuselage and body. The three vital parts — my engine, the 
gas tank, and I — were untouched, although bullets smashed 
some struts and wires not three inches from me. The rudder- 
control wires were nearly cut in two, ditto one aileron control 
and the left flying cables. The tail was nearly shot off, the 
rudder was perforated, and the left lower wing was a wreck 
with the longerons nearly cut away. Three struts in the fuse- 
lage were smashed and many wires were severed; the 
propeller had two holes in it. 

Well, it will be my turn next time, and I certainly do hope 
to have better luck with the hun than he had with me. Gee, 
but I wanted to go right up again after a boche! But this is no 
game for the single hunter and the man who flies alone in an 

[54] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

offensive is a fool; the hun flies in formations of fifteen to 
twenty. No, my chance will come and I hope it won't be in a 
dogfight but in a duel. I went up this morning in another 
fellow's machine, but it developed motor trouble, so I had 
to land; but I have all my nerve and I've smelt a lot of 
powder; I'm a wiser and more experienced pilot. 

God was merciful to me; I hope I can prove myself worthy 
of His mercy in this war and in later life. Well I must quit; 
good-bye, good luck and lots of it and much love. God bless 
you all. 



[56] 




"That war insistently devours such men as Clifford Kimber is its final 
indictment at the bar of civilization."— David Starr Jordan. 



VI 



EXTRACT FROM THE REPORT TO CHIEF OF AIR SERVICE 

I am quoting below a report on the late Lieutenant 
Kimber by the commanding officer of the squadron in 
which he met his death in line of duty: 

"Arthur C. Kimber, of the 22d Aero Squadron, who was 
killed in action September 26th, 191 8, stands out markedly 
as one of the bravest American aviators that fought in this 
war. Even before he came to join the 2d Pursuit Group at 
Toul in August, he had an enviable record among Americans 
serving in France with the Ambulance Corps, and while 
attached to a French escadrille before joining an American 
squadron. 

"With the 22d he was quietly eager and aggressive, dis- 
regarding personal advantage; most willing to do anything 
that pertained to his line of duty 

"On September 14th he was a member of a patrol of six 
which was pounced upon by a score of Fokkers. From the 
fierce struggle following. Lieutenant Hassinger failed to 
return, and Lieutenants Brooks and Kimber were in des- 
perate straits, almost shot down while both were well shot 
up. Although by good rights the plane might well have been 
replaced, it had too much of a grip on Arthur Kimber's 

[58] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

affections, for he went immediately to work to replace the 
damage by the Hun bullets, and continued to fly the same 
Number 12 (Nick No. Ill, insignia, the Shooting Star). 

"On the 26th of September he set out on a patrol with his 
squadron. The pursuit planes were equipped with two light 
bombs. The mission was to strafe roads between Grandpre 
and Dun-sur-Meuse. One group, led by Captain Bridgman, 
went down to 200 meters near St.-Juvin, and scattered a 
collection of boche. Another ^roup of three, led by Lieu- 
tenant Kimber, went to the region of Romagne. Lieutenant 
Kimber dived toward the railroad station. His machine 
suddenly blew to bits. It is of course unknown whether the 
shells of artillery from either side, or a bullet from the 
ground into the bombs, caused the tragedy " 

He was a remarkable pilot; a strong adherent to the re- 
quirements of his duty; an outstanding type of American 
Air Service Officer. 

For the C. A. S. 

E. C. Whitehead 
Colonel A. S., Chief of Staff 



[59] 



VII 



SOME LETTERS 

FROM THE SECRETARY OF WAR 



February i8, 1920. 

I am interested to learn that the first American flag to 
go officially to the battlefields of Europe after our entry into 
the war has found its permanent resting place beside the 
altar of the chapel of Stanford University, from whence its 
unit started. The Croix de Guerre pinned to its folds 
typifies the successful termination of the career of high- 
souled adventure of its guardians. 

As one of the officials of the Department, and as one of the 
citizens of the country in whose service Lieutenant Kimber 
met his death, I share your grief that the hands which 
carried this banner eastward across the ocean might not 
have brought it back. The Croix, with the flag, will stand as 
the most fitting memorial to those of its brave bearers who 
did not return. 

Cordially yours, 

(Signed) Newton D. Baker. 



[60] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 
FROM THE CHANCELLOR EMERITUS OF STANFORD UNIVERSITV 

An ardent believer in the ideals of democracy and peace, 
and willing, if need be, to give his life for them, Arthur 
Clifford Kimber left the United States in May, 1917, as 
advance member of the Second Ambulance Unit of Stanford 
University. On this trip he carried with him an American 
flag, presented by the "Friends of France" to the First 
Stanford Ambulance Unit, already in service at the front. 
The details of the presentation -jon the battlefield are vividly 
recounted in these pages. 

The character of this young man was typical of the best in 
America. Wise, resourceful, and resolute, yet at the same 
time gentle and idealistic. It was my fortune to know him 
well as a student, and to recognize his noble qualities. 

That war insistently devours such men as Clifford Kimber 
is its final indictment at the bar of civilization. 

David Starr Jordan. 

FROM THE PRESIDENT OF STANFORD UNIVERSITY 

Stanford University is very proud of its sons who gave an 
early answer to the great call that came to us from Europe. 
Particularly is this true regarding the ambulance units sent 
from the University to France before the official entrance of 
the United States into the war. It will be hard to duplicate 
in character and initiative these small but ardent groups of 
men. The incident of the flag described in this little book is 
symbolic of the spirit, the enthusiasm, and the wholesome 
youth of the men who so nobly represented Stanford on the 
other side. We take pride in the splendid record of Arthur 
Kimber, both in life and in death. We think of him as a high 
example of the type we take pride in calling the "Stanford 
Man." Ray Lyman Wilbur, 

[61] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 
FROM THE DIRECTOR OF THE AMBULANCE FIELD SERVICE IN AMERICA 

The American Field Service, from the time of its inception 
at the beginning of the war, stood squarely for the cause of 
France. During the years when this country maintained 
perfect neutrality, its ambulances were actually serving at 
the battle-front. As its efforts became more widely known, 
contributions and volunteers flowed to France in steadily 
increasing numbers, proving that the loyal and intelligent 
citizens of the Nation had accepted the Great Cause. 

This volunteer work, permitting immediate action at the 
front, appealed particularly to the youth of the Nation, 
whose vigor and idealism, fostered by fine training in truly 
American homes, impelled them to take up the active burden 
of service and sacrifice. 

Among the foremost of these was Arthur C. Kimber, who 
volunteered as a member of the Second Stanford University 
Unit. To his care was entrusted an American flag, presented 
to the First Stanford Unit, then serving in France. This flag 
was accepted by the War Department, as one of the Nation's 
official standards. It was the first Am.erican flag officially 
carried to the front. As the bearer of this distinguished trust 
he may well have been anxious to see it unfurled in France 
without loss of time; and soon after his arrival in Paris he 
had the satisfaction of being sent out with it to Section 14, 
where the flag was received and officially recognized by the 
French Army at a splendid review and consecration. 

When the Field Service was taken over by the United 
States Army, Arthur Kimber decided to enlist in aviation, 
and trained as a chasse pilot. This ambition he later realized, 
and during the heat of the great battles over the fields of 
France, in the summer of 191 8, he was doing his share of the 

[62] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

work as a fighting scout. It was while he was so flying, and 
after a record of splendid achievement, that he was killed 
within the German lines, September 26, 191 8, at about half 
past eleven in the morning. 

His death is equally mingled with tragedy and glory. It is 
the eternal epic of high-spirited and patriotic youth. The 
finest blood of a nation is always ready to give the fullest 
sacrifice. Those who are willing and fit to give the most to life 
are also willing to give the most -to death. Though little may 
be said to lessen the tragedy of his loss, or to add to the glory 
of his death, it seems worth while to record a few of the words 
spoken by General Baratier, at the grave of Paul Osborne, 
killed in our service at the front, in 191 7: 

"My thoughts go out to your parents, who, over there on 
the other side of the ocean, will learn of the sorrow which has 
stricken them. I know that words have no power to lessen a 
mother's sorrow, but I know, too, that the thoughts of the 
ideal which she inspired in the heart of her son will be able, 
if not to dry her tears, at least to transform them. For it is 
through these tears, the tears of all mothers, of all women, 
that VICTORY will come— that VICTORY which will 
assure the peace of the world, and which will be theirs more 
than any others', since they have paid for it with their hearts. 

"Soldier, sleep on, in the midst of your French comrades, 
fallen, like you, in glory; sleep on beneath the folds of the 
flag of the United States, in the shade of the flag of France." 

With the same spirit that gave utterance to this stirring 
and tender tribute, will the memory of Arthur Kimber be 
guarded by his comrades and compatriots. 

Henry D. Sleeper. 

[63] 



THE STORY OF THE FIRST FLAG 

TO ERNEST H. LEACH 

By Gilbert N. Jerome 

[This poem was written upon the death of one of several comrades and warm friends. 
Each of that group in turn has "crossed the threshold." Dan Asa Bigelow was killed in 
June, Gilbert Jerome was killed in July, Arthur Kimber in September, and James D. 
Beane in October, 191 8.] 

It cannot be, I say it cannot be. 
'Tis but a moment since he stood 
Here in our little group 
And smiled and spoke. 
A moment's flight, and then 
He passes through the gate 
That bars our view, 
Leaving us desolate. 

It cannot be, I say it cannot be 
That he who moved among us. 
Winning us all by deeds and words 
Of quiet friendliness. 
Has lived his few short years, 
Only to slip away 
Into the vanished past, 
A sad, sweet memory. 

It cannot be. I say it cannot be. 
Such friends can never die. 
He lives beyond the gate; 
And when our turn shall come 
To step across that threshold 
Into a world more fair, 
He will be first of those 
Who meet and greet us there. 

[64] 



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